Reverie
by Oakenshield
Summary: As his daughter dances with her husband, Elrond reflects on things lost.


Stars shine, the moon glows full, the wind stirs but a single leaf from the tree. Folk laugh, and sing, and dance but I cannot. I cannot dance anymore, and I would not be able to if I were to try. Sadness overtakes me as I glance back into the hall, where my mortal daughter dances in the arms of my foster son, the child I took in and raised as my own.  
  
Elrohir sits with the King of Rohan, like as not discussing horses. He has been trying all day to charm King Éomer into letting him have a couple of his mares to take back home. I think his charm is beginning to pay off. As it always does.  
  
Elladan has taken to the floor but his shoulders look heavy with sadness, and I know what he feels. He has glanced at me but twice this evening and has refused to meet my eyes. He knows I will leave soon, and he will stay. He looks as though he wants to make amends, but he is too stubborn. As am I. One of us should move towards each other, but neither will. I tell myself I will later, I cannot lose him completely.  
  
I allow my eyes to wander the room from my safe seat at the balcony and watch the dancers. Even Galadriel is allowing herself to be spun in a reel by Glorfindel. She looks so different, content, unguarded, perhaps the slightest bit intoxicated by the wine. But she dances, and she laughs and she looks alive. Years seem to be washed from her face and how she reminds me of Celebrían. I know Elladan sees it too.  
  
I wonder for a moment what Celebrían would make of all this if she were still here. She would likely be sad, but she would put Arwen's happiness before her own. I never understood how she could just accept things so easily and let them go. If I had been more like her, perhaps my relationships with my children would be better. But I cannot let things go, certainly not them. Perhaps it is the weakness of the mortal blood within me. Or perhaps I am just weak anyway, weak to blame my composition rather than my heart.  
  
I look back and Elrohir has been pulled away from his bargaining for horses and into the floor by his brother. They dance together for some moments, each movement perfectly timed and tuned with the other's, they both smile happily but Elladan's smile is only a front, just like mine. He is so much like me.  
  
Oh, if only things had turned out differently. I have to take some blame for it. If only just one of them had failed to slip between my fingers; my brother, my first love, my wife, my sons and now my beautiful daughter.  
  
Estel sees me and catches my eye, offering me a small smile of apology. Maybe I am just bitter. Everyone seems to be content with their partners, either dancing or sitting and talking, and I am alone. Maybe I am bitter. But the air seems bitter to me, as does the taste of the wine in my cup as I drink to the happiness of my daughter.  
  
"Father come inside! Do not be miserable!"  
  
Elrohir comes out to me. He knows I am upset. Ever-sensitive Elrohir. Ever sweet. Too sweet to come to this. But it is not my business anymore. They have made their choice and I have made mine. I chose to let them go when they chose to leave me. My heart knows it is for the best, though it breaks.  
  
"Come and dance! Everyone else is! Even the Dwarf is dancing, which is as ludicrous as it is delightful!"  
  
He holds his hand out to me. I long to take it. To hold it. To hold him as I did when he were a babe. I wish for that time again. But I know it cannot be. I turn from him before he can see my tears.  
  
"Arwen wants a dance with her Father," he says firmly. "Would you deny your daughter that on her wedding night?"  
  
I should not. I start to rise to my feet, then a slower tune sweeps into the air. My heart sinks to my stomach and I drop back to my seat as though I have been clubbed in the knees. My legs could not hold to dance. Not to this.  
  
"Elladan is head of the family now. Ask him to."  
  
Elrohir stares at me for some seconds, in disbelief and confusion, a look I have not seen upon his face for some centuries. "I *shall* ask him."  
  
Angry tears are in his voice as he walks back inside with a toss of the head. How that reminds me of his mother. Though she would have slapped me in that moment. He doesn't understand. He cannot understand.  
  
The music invades my senses. The strings pull at my heart, each note a memory of her. A smile, a turn of the hand as she held her palm out to me to join her. I fell in love with her with this music. A slow blink of bright blue eyes, long lashes on pale skin. Golden hair caught in the moonlight. Delicate perfume rising into my nose as I leaned my head into her neck.  
  
Does Arwen know this was her mother's favourite dance? We danced this on our wedding night, and every party and occasion after that. We danced a slow and painful version the eve before she departed from me, and that was the last time my feet moved in such a way, and I swore I would never dance again.  
  
I should have gone in with Elrohir. I should have let my daughter have this dance. But I cannot dance to this with anyone but Celebrían. But my heart does not feel saddened at this thought. I have lost much, but I will be with her again soon. And, if I can look her in the eyes, maybe then I will learn to dance again.  
  
[END] 


End file.
